Family Is Nothing But Trouble
by LionshadeSC
Summary: Immediately after the Shadow War, Donald approaches his Uncle for a conversation that is long overdue between them. Takes place after the season 1 finale of the 2017 reboot, plot spoilers for season 1.


"Well?"

Scrooge lifted his head from where he sat in front of the fire, his arms resting heavily on the arms of his large red velvet chair. He turned at the sound of his nephew's voice, and raised his eyebrows. "Well what?" he asked, sitting up smartly.

His nephew stood in the archway of the door, the light of the fireplace casting Donald in an orange-white glow. Shadows played over his face, and despite the fight against Magika that very day, Donald looked as strong as ever, while Scrooge felt like his limbs were lined with lead.

At his nephews continued silence, Scrooge forced his words out. "The lads all . . . tucked into bed?"

Donald crossed his arms. A frown lay heavily over his brows, his beak turned down in displeasure. Scrooge knew his nephew wasn't typically one to glare, but recently, that was the only way Donald ever seemed to regard his uncle these days. "We need to talk," he said.

Scrooge stared, apprehension creeping through his nerves. "About what, lad?" he asked.

"You know," Donald said, his glare deepening. Scrooge remained stubbornly quiet, but said nothing, mostly because he didn't know what his nephew wanted to talk about. Donald's eyes narrowed. "Della."

Scrooge's arms gave out, as if all the fight drained from them, and he sat back against the chair. The richest duck in the world inhaled sharply, and swallowed audibly as his heart raced with sudden adrenaline. Afraid of Donald seeing his expression, Scrooge wrenched his face into a controlled mask. He lowered his eyebrows, knitting them together until he forced a frown. "What about her?" he grit out through his beak.

Donald sighed from behind him, and the billionaire heard his nephew walk steadily through the room towards the fire place.

Scrooge turned his head away, unwilling to meet his nephew's gaze. "I donnae know why you want to talk about her, nephew," he grumbled. "I know full well what you have to say."

Internally, he could still hear the accusing screams of his nephew, _"It's your fault she's gone! It's your fault! You lost her!"_ Scrooge flinched at the voice, his shoulders tightening.

Donald sighed again, and took a place on the red sofa next to Scrooge's chair. "It's been ten years, uncle," he said. The mallard blinked slowly as he stared into the fire, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "And with everything that's happened, with everything that's happened with the boys … I want us to put everything behind us."

Scrooge gazed at his nephew.

(**)

" _So. You've given up?"_

 _Scrooge tightened his hand over the phone, ignoring the trembling in his fingers as he croaked in reply. "None of my astronauts have found a trace of her. I've sent out hundreds-"_

" _Can't you send out more?"_

 _Scrooge swallowed. "It's not that simple, Donald. I'm starting to run out of funds; my advisors, they had to drag me away from-"_

" _So that's what it comes down to," Donald's voice interrupted his uncle, his voice clipped and unforgiving. He spat out in disgust, "Money."_

 _Something large and as heavy as a rock choked Scrooge. He gasped, and fought to find the right words to say past what must be a boulder in his throat. "What? No! But, I've lost over 75% of my savings I-"_

"And you lost my sister!" _Donald snarled on the other side of the phone._

 _The stone lodged in Scrooge's throat plummeted into his stomach. "Donald, god," he gasped, "I didn't mean it like – I would never. No expense would ever be enough to-"_

" _To find my sister? I didn't know you put a price tag on family's worth," Donald growled. "After only 3 months you've decided to just, what, move on? That's all Della and I ever meant to you?"_

 _Tears filled the millionaire's eyes and spilled down his face, and he shook his head, as if to slow down the conversation that was so quickly flying off the track, "Donald, nephew, I would – there's nothing I wouldn't -"_

" _Call me when you've decided that family is worth your time_ and _money,_ uncle _."_

 _The phone slammed down from the other side of the line, cutting off any defense Scrooge could present._

 _Somehow numb, Scrooge felt only dimly aware as the phone slid from his hand and clattered to the floor._

(**)

"The boys aren't hurt or anything, are they?" Scrooge asked, distracting himself from Donald's question.

The sailor sighed, and Scrooge knew his nephew was absolutely aware of his uncle trying to avoid the issue. "They're fine, Uncle. A little bruised from the fight, but just as rowdy as ever." Donald chuckled. "They remind me a lot of . . . her."

Scrooge tightened his hands over the chair, fighting the tears from coming to his eyes. He found it in himself to crack a smile, and even brought out a chuckle. "They remind me of the both of ye," he said.

Donald offered a small smile in turn.

(**)

 _The phone rang eerily on the other line, and Scrooge tried to steady his breathing. One half of his mind wanted to scream in fear while the other half cursed Beakly for putting him up to this._

" _Call your nephew. He's family. You're_ important _to each other," the agent had implored him. "It's been_ three months _since you last spoke_. _Trying to reconcile is far better than both of you stewing in hate."_

" _I don't_ hate _him!" Scrooge had bit._

" _Tell that to_ him _!"_

 _Scrooge muttered angrily under his breath, and finally gasped when the other line's ringing cut off._

 _A moment of incomprehensible shuffling, the sound of a baby's cry from the other line, and then the exhausted greeting of his nephew came through the phone's speaker. "Hello?"_

 _Scrooge stopped breathing._

 _Another moment of quiet passed. Donald Duck spoke again, "Hello-o? Anybody there?"_

 _Scrooge swallowed, then forced himself to croak out. "He-Hello, Donald."_

 _A beat of silence divided the tension between the two ducks on the line. His nephew finally spoke. "Uncle Scrooge."_

 _The duck tangled his hand through the cord of his phone. "It's – it's been a while."_

 _Donald remained quiet for another few moments, and the duck feared that his nephew would hang up, but relief went fast through the elder as his nephew spared him. "It has." His voice sounded a little softer._

 _Scrooge sighed. "I wanted to just – ah – how – how have you been?"_

 _His nephew's voice became more clipped. "Fine. And you?"_

" _Fine, just fine," he said, his mind starting to kick up in worry from the sound of waning interest in his nephew's speech. "I – I was hoping you could talk."_

 _More quiet. And then Donald spoke, his voice lowered. "All right." There was the sound of shuffling on the other line, like some things were being moved around, and then Donald's voice came through a little more clearly. "Talk."_

 _Scrooge swallowed nervously. "I – I just wanted to, to see how you were doing."_

 _Donald waited. "I'm doing fine. Is that it?"_

 _Uncertainty filled the duck. He hesitated. "I – I mean. I guess. I just – I wanted to. . ."_

" _There's nothing else you want to say?"_

 _Okay something was definitely wrong. Donald was beginning to sound angry. Scrooge needed to fix this, now. "Well I – I heard the triplets hatched."_

 _His nephew wasn't able to hide the guarded tone in his voice. "They have," he admit._

 _Scrooge could barely stop himself from prying and wanting to learn more. "And-?" he asked, anticipation building._

" _Three boys."_

" _Three boys," Scrooge breathed, joy, relief, and despair soaring through him all at once. No girls. Good. He couldn't imagine if any of them were girls, if any of them looked like_ her. _Or sounded like her, or talked like her, or had the same personality like her, or-_

 _Conflict and guilt tore at Scrooge over his feelings. "And they're all healthy?" he asked._

" _They are," Donald said. Something that sounded a lot like love started to push through into his voice. His tone softened. "They've been a wingful, but, I can't imagine how I ever got by without knowing them."_

 _Scrooge laughed softly. "I'm glad to hear that they're doing well, then. What're their names?"_

" _Hubert, Duford, and Llewelyn." Donald paused, and the affection in his voice was obvious. "Huey, Duey, and-"_

" _And Louie," Scrooge finished, chuckling under his breath. So they kept with the Duck tradition of naming siblings with names that often went together, especially for siblings of the same brood. Huey, Dewey, Louie. Scrooge and Scot._

 _Donald and Della._

" _I don't suppose I-" Scrooge started, and found himself choking on his words. "I don't – you don't think I could, come down and see the little tykes, do ye?"_

 _Donald remained quiet on the phone for several unforgivable seconds, and Scrooge began to fear for the worst when-_

" _No. I don't think you could."_

 _Yeah. It was the worst._

 _Scrooge inhaled sharply as if someone had struck him, and he tightened his hold over the phone. "Nephew, come now, you've got to-"_

" _I don't have to do_ anything, _Uncle Scrooge. I don't want you around the boys. You're too dangerous."_

" _I'd never hurt them, what are ye-"_

" _You never wanted to hurt Della, either, but-"_

" _That's not fair and you know it!" Scrooge growled, his hand tightening over the phone, and the desperation in his voice suddenly made way for fury. "I did_ everything _I could to-"_

" _You gave up after_ three months _! Just quit on her, decided she was dead and_ put her behind you _! I'm not going to let you do the same thing to me or my family."_

 _Scrooge knew that what he was feeling couldn't have been real, because someone had_ definitely _kicked him in the chest._ Me or my family, _his nephew had said._

 _And that no longer included Scrooge._

 _That boulder came back, lodging itself into the duck's throat. "It-It wasn't my fault, lad," he said, trying to appeal to Donald in any way he could. "I couldn't stop her from – you_ knew _what she was like, I-"_

" _You may not have made her leave, Scrooge, but you might as well have buckled her up and pressed the launch button yourself when you made that ship for her. The adventure was always more important to you than us. The fact that she's gone says that clearly, now_."

 _Scrooge didn't know how this conversation had turned sour so quickly. He struggled to pick it back up and put it together. "Donald, nephew, you've got to believe me, please-"_

" _I'll believe you when you bring back my sister."_

Click.

 _For a couple of moments, Scrooge stood in horrified shock, the phone grasped tight in his hands._

 _From behind the corner of the room, Beakly's voice called out curiously. "How did it go?"_

 _Scrooge glared, and slammed the phone back into it's cradle. "_ Family," _he growled, and turned to his housekeeper with a grit beak and a glint of despaired fury flashing in his eyes, "are_ nothing _but_ trouble _!"_

(**)

"I'll be the first to admit, I was a bit harsh," Donald said into the mostly quiet room. Scrooge wished the crackling of the flames would drown out the voice of his nephew, or that the darkness of the room surrounding them would swallow him whole. He couldn't handle this, the fresh opening of guilt and hurt, after doing all he could all these years later. "But I stand by what I said then," Donald went on, peeling back the wound so it was raw against Scrooge's heart. "I held you directly responsible for what happened to Della, and, I still hold a little bit of that now."

Scrooge didn't want to hear this. Didn't want to hear how his beloved nephew despised him, didn't want to hear him say that he was taking the boys away, didn't want to hear him say that he would never-

"Della wasn't just my sister, Uncle Scrooge," Donald said, and he lowered his voice a little. "She was my best friend, and I lost her. She lost the chance to see what her boys would become, and even after ten years it still hurts to think about her."

Scrooge glared at the fire pit, but he refused to look at his nephew. "I've told ye I'm sorry, lad," Scrooge said, grief and loss thick in his words. "How many times do I got to tell you that. I know it was my fault she's gone, I know she'll never be able to see what her sons look like because of me. I understand, alright?"

Donald scratched the back of his head. "It's not fair of me, though, to blame you totally for what Della did." Scrooge went absolutely still. His eyes remain locked on the fire place, but his ears strained to catch every syllable his nephew uttered, "We know what she was like; you couldn't tell Della to do anything after she set her mind on something. There's nothing you or I could do about it once she made her choice."

Both released small chuckles of amusement, and Scrooge's gaze softened. "She was a spitfire, your sister. Stubborn as a mule, your twin."

The old duck risked a glance to Donald, and saw the vulnerability in his nephew's eyes. "She was," Donald agreed.

In the fallen quiet of the room, Scrooge waited for Donald to say something. When he didn't, he forced himself to speak. "Is that what you wanted to say, then, lad?"

"Not all of it," Donald admit, his voice low.

Scrooge waited in pensive silence, and then Donald lifted his head and met his uncle's gaze with a level stare. "I wanted to say that I forgive you."

The world stopped.

The billionaire turned his head fast to look at his nephew, his eyes widening as unbidden tears immediately seemed to form in his eyes. Donald looked stubbornly ahead to his uncle, and Scrooge felt his heart twist in his chest.

"Lad, you- you really-"

"I mean it, Uncle Scrooge," Donald said, his gaze lowered. His hands came together as his fingers tapped and steepled in front of him. "Della would have left no matter what. Even if you hadn't made the ship for her, she would have found something somewhere and go on some adventure." The duck sighed, and let his head bow in resignation. "But I'm going to stop blaming you for what she chose to do."

Scrooge watched as tears slid down Donald's face, and the older duck swallowed through his grief. Failing to hold back the emotion, the lump in his throat finally spilled forth into a sob as one feathered hand clutched his chest. "I-" he hiccuped, unable to keep himself from stopping his sob. "I never meant for – to lose-"

"I know, Uncle Scrooge," Donald said, wanting to spare his uncle from hurting further.

"Della was my niece, I would have – would have done _anything_ , lad, to find her, bring her home safe."

Donald turned his head away from his uncle, but the shaking of his shoulders betrayed that he, too, was crying.

Both ducks sat there at the fireplace, crying quietly in an attempt to stifle the sound of their sobs, like the daft fools that they were. It was Donald, of course, who was the first to rise and approach his uncle before getting on his knees and hugging his elder.

Scrooge didn't hesitate, and wrapped his arms tight around his nephew, pulling him close.

"I'm sorry, nephew," he apologized. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I wanted to find her, wanted to bring her home safe to her boys-"

"I know, Uncle. I know."

(**)

 **It's 2018 I'm 23 years old and here I am uploading Ducktale fanfiction; what a time to be alive.**


End file.
